self help workshops

I'm not the biggest fan of self-help books. I acknowledge the good intentions behind these books, talks and workshops. However, there is a stark difference between good self-help and poor self-help. I'm not talking about the spirtual enlightenment and nirvana type of self-help because I do not subscribe to that school of thought. In any case, here's what agitated me to write a new post.

I was helping my mother transcribe part of a self-help seminar which she attended recently. The speaker was supposedly renowned and highly sought after by celebrities and the wealthy for the self-help advice. Arming myself with a positive attitude to transcribe a seemingly interesting topic on leadership and image mastery, I embarked on my attempt of transcribing.

It was barely four minutes into the talk that I realized I was transcribing rubbish. Not that I was poor at transcribing- I have transcribed debate speeches- word for word with fillers and pauses. Rather it was the speaker that had

a) such a terrible enounciation I had to blast my speakers;

b) such terrible grammar which made it a pain to listen to;

c) redundant points. Absolutely redundant points. It was so awful, I gave up transcribing the piece for my mum after less than ten minutes.

In summation, maybe the speaker was trying to rouse up the audience's interest and share personal stories with them. Sure, but it didn't have to be seven minutes of pure irrelevance.

I may sound pissy, but I assure you that my emotions are well under control and that no one, absolutely no one should be forgiven for horrible grammar and utter nonsense.

PS: the latter does not apply to debaters, lawyers and politicians. it's their ricebowl. be nice.

too tight pants

I feel squashed.

My grey tailored pants are too tight for me. At the waist- to be exact. I thought it was pretty snug when I put it on in the morning, but of course, the clever me forgot that I would be having lots of food during my stay at school and would need more than snug pants.

My stomach is definitely tightened because of my too tight pants. And while that may not be too bad a thing, it causes some discomfort and inconvenience.

See, I like to sit straight with my legs cross while I'm at a computer. My too tight pants forces me to slouch because my tummy spreads out more thinly. Also, my legs have to be solidly placed on the ground so that my pants at my arse area does not get ripped.

So much for 'bleeding' for fashion. Think it is time for my shopping spree.

self-help beauty v-blogs on youtube

From the self explanatory heading, have you ever checked it out in your life?

I just did and I would probably stay away from it for awhile until I get terribly bored as I was when I checked it out today.

Here's why I do not want to go near these blogs in the near future.

1. The introduction to the product(s) take an annoying long time.

2. There are too many wacky results that arise from it. The results may long really good, but sometimes, it is the process that puts me off. Saw a video about putting on eye shadow (five colours- similar shades and stuff) Sure the end result looks good. But if i see anyone walking down town having five colours on their eyelibs, I will either laugh my head off or be freaked out because I thought I just saw a transgender.

3. It gets boring because lots of other users will start to copy or improvise the same product. Then, they'll gossip about it. Take this for example: DIY tans. A presenter said in her video, 'Oh, I have nothing bad to say about product XYZ except it gets your hands orange, it takes such a long time to set etc.'

Anyway, I'm not beauty obsessed like many girls are and I thank God that majority of my clsoe friends spend their time doing other more productive and edifying activities.

biathlons and muscles

I did not recover in time to participate for sat's biathlon. there will be many other opportunities so I have chose not to sulk over it.

What I am about to blog are my observations from my supposed biathlon. The more important ones.

Biathlons, as the name suggests, have two components- swim and run. I noticed that many buffed guys who were in their speedos and flashy swim caps were unable to swim. They would possibly be better off running than swimming because that's how more defined muscles are formed. So, it was rather disappointing to watch the first wave of men's open swimmers trying to 'muscle' their way across the swimming pool.

I enquired about the validity of my observation from a life-saving coach, who summed it up as- muscles are heavier, so they would sink and buffed swimmers also sink *lah*'.

In any case, I learn a good lesson about not judging people by their physique. Afterall, the guy whom I was poking fun at because of him looking rather gay (super fair and wears ultra tight swim shorts) was the fastest swimmer for the tournament.

worksheets for the econs department

Contrary to popular opinion, I have work to be completed before my internship expires. My work primarily includes researching microeconomics articles from all possible sources and to subsequently convert them into a worksheet. These worksheets are supposed to 'stretch' the minds of some JC 1 children such that they can 'better understand' the concepts they study.

I need to complete some five articles per week (it has snowballed since May btw) and mind you, they are not as easy as they seem. It is tough mainly because I am squeezing as much ideas insights from whatever limited chapters they have studied. With all due respect, these JC1 students should not be moaning about what they are studying.

In any case, I doubt that the econs department will use my work. Not because my work is horrible nor my economic concepts inaccurate. Rather, it would be the lack of general intelligence and analytical abilities across most JC1 students at my workplace. There are a few bright and promising sparks- that I concede. But because of the many oversized babies that remain, my slaving away may be futile.

polyclinic queues and dispensaries

Most people would have gone to a polyclinic here in Singapore and most would tell you of their encounters. And some how or another, most people would understand and empathize with it. Here's mine.

On my mother's insistence, I dragged myself to the polyclinic in my neighbourhood to get a queue ticket. Given the terrible plague of H1N1, anyone visiting clinics would have to take their temperature. Interesting how a nurse asked the lass ahead of me in the queue, 'are you sick'?

I waited for a pretty long time to see my doctor just to get a clearance from my mother. I know it was long because I finished reading my book way before my number popped up on the screen and I do not read very quickly.

After the little x-ray, I had to wait another hour for the report to be ready, a real waste of time. In any other given situation, I would have caught some shut eye- afterall, I did wake up at an unearthly hour today. But, I could not. Reason? The radiographer said, 'Oh, it usually takes about an hour, but you should stay around since you're the only patient today.'

I give her kudos because I did not wait the full hour. But what frsutrated me the most was- the collection of medicine.

Now I am aware that the pharmacy is busy. However, I think that the number board, where patients' call numbers are flashed is a horrid creation to be used on a lazy thursday afternoon. Each time the beep sounded, I looked up hungrily, in hope that my longsuffering would pass me as my number flashed on the screen.

Strangely, I did not feel content when my number and name (for subsequent payment) was called some time later. I was just drained and exhausted from spending two hours of my precious life in a place where the H1N1 virus is most likely to be floating around, waiting to pounce on its new victim.

slacking

There are many ways to slack at work. I discovered a new one for myself today.

My sprained ankle saga created a hullaboo at the office. As much as I appreciate the concerns from my colleagues, have they never seen a sprained ankle in their life?

Anyway, I have literally no work for this entire week. Primarily because it is the examination week, where interns are disallowed from helping to mark scripts. Think they really know that we can screw up the life of some poor child. So, I trotted down to the canteen for my 2nd breakfast.

Oh, before I continue, one needs to understand my dietary habits at school. On a typical day, I would have three to four meals within my time in school. It may or may not include lunch, depending on specific weekday. In any case, there are always colleagues that are free at some odd slot, my fellow interns who have nothing to do or the faithful computers that I spend most of time with in the institution I work for to have breaks with

Back to the slacking entry: I get 'paid' to slack, eat and use the computer. Sure I do my research stuff for my department, but I conclude that I get paid to do almost nothing most times.

sprained ankles and funny knees

My newfound interest in tennis has brought a little disaster on my right ankle today. See, I was attempting to retrieve a loop ball shot which had climbed to a visually uncomfortable height. As I raised my Prince Hybrid to my ideal engagement height, I stepped towards the right to hit the shot, 'Kluck' came a sound and I twisted my ankle.

I made a conscious decision to stay low profile at the bleachers after my ankle was twisted as it threw the entire tennis court into an ad hoc 'child-care centre' with well meaning players enquiring on my well being. But honestly, I have had ankle sprains before, so there's nothing new.

Now the problem I may face, is my inability to join my virigin attempt at a biathlon in four days. My right ankle now forces me to lean on my left leg, where my left knee cap was seemingly protesting because it clicks rather often.

A minor injury in the body paralyzes a person. Once again, I understand this infamous quote.